Threnody 1: Loveless
by Jainie Starr
Summary: Said thinks about the B/K situation, love, pain, guilt and atonement.


"If there's one that rode away  
What would I be missing?  
Lips that taste of tears, they say,  
Are the best for kissing."  
-- 'Threnody,' Dorothy Parker 

Word had gotten around quickly, as it tended to do in Oz: Tobias Beecher was the new official Unit Whore. Unofficially. And although Kareem Said disapproved of the relationship that Tobias had had with his podmate Chris Keller, that was better than the alternative he was now forced to witness. 

Tobias rutted mindlessly with anyone who glanced at him a second too long. The crazy man had now become the crazy whore -- where once Beecher had bitten the head off of a strange man's penis, now he seemed to invite the strange, frantic joinings... and he didn't bite. It was his choice, a conscious one, and Said knew this. But still, he couldn't stop himself from wondering: why Beecher would do such a thing to himself? 

At least, with Keller, Tobias had been loved -- in whatever bastardized denotation of the word you chose to accept. Broken bones, gushing stab wounds and dead children littered the battlefield including and encompassing Keller and Beecher's pod. Was _that_ love? Could it possibly be? O'Reily had murdered Dr. Nathan's husband, presumably because of his love for her. Could anyone truly love someone that much? Enough to kill whomever stood in the way of them and their objective... the object of their... affections? 

Affection. It pained Said deeply to see this man whom he had come to care for over the last few years go sliding feet-first into his own personal living hell. He and Beecher had grown steadily closer as the months had gone on and he found that he genuinely liked the man. Friendship had flourished, having sprouted up from the carcass of pity. If he could find it in himself to consider this man -- a white devil, a former lawyer, the ever-maligned "MAN" -- a friend, well, then... anything was possible. Praise be to Allah. 

One child dead, another scarred for life by the terrors she'd endured. What was worse was the knowledge that Said had encouraged, all but insisted, that Beecher carry out the enterprise in the hopes of neutralizing the rancor that had been seething between he and Schillinger for the past four years. It was as though he had taken a blade and severed that child's hand, himself -- taken a gun and put it to the boy's head, effectively ending his short life. It was naïve, he knew, to say that you'd done something you would always regret, for you always do something else even more foolish to top it, if given enough time and opportunities. But Said felt that this was, by far, the worst thing he'd ever done... and he would regret it with everything in him, for the rest of his life. Gary Beecher's blood was on his hands just as much as it was on Hank Schillinger's. 

Said had chosen to avoid confronting Beecher, had essentially stopped speaking to the man, ever since he had begun this confusing new chapter of his life in Emerald City. This was not the ferocious, gleeful, heroin-fueled maniac of three years past, nor was he the timid, alcoholic lawyer that had taken his first baby-steps into Oz nearly four years before. No, this time... he was willfully self-destructing... slowly destroying himself from the inside out. 

It had begun when Querns moved Keller out of the pod. He disliked the new unit manager almost immediately, but this particular move was detrimental to Tobias and that was his sole cause for objection. Keller may have been a monster, he may have been an insult to all of the ideals that Said held dear, but somehow... he had helped keep Beecher sane. Tobias had been... happy with Keller, he knew. And there was something about that notion that stuck in the creases and folds of Said's brain like a stray, jagged grain of sand, rubbing at the dendrites and nerve endings, irritating and disturbing his peace of mind. 

He had meditated and prayed to Allah at great length, hoping to find an answer to the matter at hand, a solution to the endless stream of questions that now jabbed and prodded at him every time he laid eyes on Tobias Beecher. 

Tobias had loved Keller, that he also knew. He recognized the overwhelming joy and crushing melancholy that usually accompanied such feelings in Tobias. Empty, glazed eyes, desperately searching for the other half, hands opening and closing on nothing more than dry, recycled Emerald City air; a hunger the likes of which even the finest foods could never sate. The emptiness would only fade once the one you cared for was near -- and then, they were filled with your beloved's reflection. But never with your joy or your love for them -- only _their_ joy, _their_ love. He'd seen such a face looking back at him in the mirror many mornings, himself. 

He must find Tobias and speak to him about this; he had to. If not as a spiritual mentor or teacher, then merely as a friend. 

Firmly decided on his course of action, Said stood and slid off of his bunk and exited his pod, making his way to the common area at the heart of Emerald City. He glanced inside as he passed by one pod on the top level -- Keller's new pod. The large, well-built man sat in his bottom bunk -- new place, same old situation -- curled up in a fetal position, pillow gripped in his powerful arms. 

Before, it had been Tobias who had hidden himself away in their pod and had refused to come out. His son was dead and he intended to mourn -- the state may have taken away his freedom and circumstance may have robbed him of his family, but he would mourn his child in his own way, imprisoned even as he was. He would not let Oswald take that from him; it was his right as Gary's father. Said had been glad to see that the other inmates were supportive of Tobias during this difficult stretch -- Keller had watched out for him, brought food for him and kept the guards off his back while Rebadow had brought him books from the library. From what he could tell, the books had gone unread and the food uneaten, but their efforts were to be appreciated. 

The hangdog expression on Keller's face gave Said considerable pause; in all of his dealings with the other man, he had seen so many different expressions. The triumphant smirk that came when he bested Tobias at chess. The frown of concentration whilst lifting weights in the gym. The cool, unreadable mask that he slipped on whilst playing cards in the common area. This expression, however, was new. Furrowed brow, squinting eyes, face held in a tight grimace as though he were in great pain. This was not a face for outsiders to see; this face was for Keller's pod and his pod alone. Keller glanced up and met Said's eyes, his own dark and dead and empty, but still pained. Said offered the other man a careful nod of acknowledgement as he stepped back and continued on his way. 

Keller had so often deferred or outright denied his own emotions for so long... until they had finally built up to such a degree whereupon they demanded their owner face and accept them, or be brought down in their wake. Judging by Keller's behavior, he had chosen the latter -- the man was being ravaged from the inside out by his own long-forgotten heart, allowing himself to be cannibalized as penance for his grievous sins. It was as though he had walked into a lion's den, incited their attack and now lay, writhing in ecstasy, as his body was ripped apart. 

What pain was pain enough for the suffering he had inflicted? When was it enough? Was it ever enough? 

Said made his way down the steps to the ground level of Emerald City. He'd watched Beecher sitting in the common area, surrounded by a sea of gang bangers. Three of the men bantered back and forth, while Tobias just sat quietly, looking almost bored, impatient. For a moment, Said had wondered just what the men were discussing but then, Tobias had stood and one of the gang members parted from his brethren, exchanging complicated handshakes before following Tobias behind the stairwell nestled beneath the guard roost. And then it hit Said: the men had been arguing over who was next in line to... the thought slammed into him, nearly doubling him over, like a fist. 

As he was taking the last few steps down to the ground level, he saw the gang member skulking out from beneath the stairwell, straightening his clothes as he limp-stepped back over to his crew, once again exchanging dirty grins and daps from his boys. With a cursory glance at the guard roost, Said slipped beneath the stairwell, eyes squinting in an effort to acclimatize to the darkness seeping around him. The area beneath the two stairwells joined together, forming something of an abbreviated horseshoe and Said had to practically bend himself in two in order to accommodate his tall frame. The cramped space stank of semen, sweat and musk, creating a rather gamey bouquet and he could feel his gorge rising from the stench. He cupped one hand over his nose and mouth as he tiptoed around. 

"Ow! Shit, watch where you're going, asshole!" 

"Tobias?" Said bent down, hand feeling around in the darkness, and came in contact with a firm, smooth, t-shirted shoulder. 

"Yeah," a voice replied wryly, chased with a humorless snort of laughter. "Said? What the hell you doin' down here? Slummin'?" 

"Tobias, move into the light so I can see you." 

"No." 

"Tobias, please. We need to talk... and I want to see your face." 

A ragged sigh, "A'right." 

The sound of rubber soles scraping against grit-covered concrete. Said followed the sound, followed Beecher, until they were at the other end of the horseshoe. He could now see Tobias, clad in his plain dark-gray t-shirt, shapeless, no-name-brand, off-the-rack trousers and his black and white Chuck Taylors. He plunked down onto the concrete and immediately turned his face away, propping his left hand up on his bent knee, idly chewing on the pad of his thumb, eyes glancing around but looking at nothing in particular. 

"Tobias, look at me, please," Said took a seat beside him, Koran clutched between his knees. "Please." Another rough, raspy sigh from Beecher, this one carrying a twinge of weariness in it. 

He lowered his hand and turned his face towards Said, revealing the damage left by his latest 'suitor'. A swelling square on his right cheekbone which would very shortly turn into a very nasty bruise, a split in his lip that had leaked a tiny trickle of blood onto his chin. 

"Seen enough?" With the undamaged half of his face, Tobias smiled, but there was no light in his eyes, no warmth. In this smile, there was nothing but bitterness and misery. Said reached into his back pocket, retrieved his handkerchief and passed it to Tobias, who let out another snort, followed by a light sniffle. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome," he leaned back against the wall, watching as he carefully dabbed at his bloodied lip. 

"Does it look bad?" 

"No, but it soon will." 

"Hmph. He just got a little carried away, is all. Heh... you'd think I would have gotten used to the rough stuff by now, huh? After Vern, everything else should be flowers and candy by comparison," Tobias chuckled and winced sharply as the cut on his lip was reopened. The smile was quickly displaced with a scowl as he bent both knees up, hands fidgeting with the handkerchief. He held it out to Said with a small, wan smile, "Thanks." 

"No, you keep it." 

"Yeah, I should. Probably think I've got AIDS or somethin', right?" 

"I didn't say that," Said frowned. 

"No, I know you didn't," Tobias let his knees fall to either side of him as he crossed them Indian style, hands plucking at the handkerchief, eyes fixed on it, refusing to look Said in the face. "I probably do _now_, though." A mirthless snicker laced with a bit of the old daunting mania, "Wouldn't _that_ just beat all?" 

"Well, then, why don't you stop..." he gestured vaguely to their surroundings, hoping that Beecher could fill in the blanks on his own and he wouldn't actually have to say it. 

"I can't." 

"Is it so difficult?" 

"You don't know *how* difficult, Kareem. You have no idea." 

"Then tell me." 

"No, you really don't wanna know." 

"Don't I?" 

"You wouldn't understand." 

"Try me," he smiled. 

"I was... thinking..." Tobias began slowly, twisting the handkerchief around his fingers as he spoke, "that if I fucked enough of 'em --" Said inwardly winced at these harsh words, but said nothing, "that maybe I could forget Chris. That I'd stop... wanting him so bad. That I could somehow replace the memory of his body in my mind with all these other bodies. Just... wipe it away." 

"How much do you want him?" 

"With everything in me," the other man replied without missing a beat. "Despite all the shit he's put me through." 

"And you hate yourself for that." 

"_Yes_," he said breathlessly, sounding almost relieved. "I want him more than I've ever wanted anything or anybody in my entire life and it scares the shit out of me, Said. I hate it that I want him so bad. There are so many reasons that I shouldn't want him, shouldn't want to love him, but my heart won't listen." Hearing Beecher speak those words aloud, it was as though he was speaking for Said's own heart, voicing his own thoughts and feelings verbatim. 

"Hearts _can_ be stubborn, yes," he said, speaking earnestly from personal experience. 

At that moment, it struck Said just how very alike Tricia Ross and Tobias were: so very fragile at times, yet so incredibly steadfast at others. Now, was he fragile; Said could see the tears welling in those pale blue eyes and could see how ferociously Tobias fought against them. The tears came slowly, at first, replacing the emptiness and then like swift-running flood waters, until they overflowed their banks and went spilling down the clean, smooth cheeks, catching the light and twinkling like diamonds on his ashen flesh. 

"I asked him to -- forgive me..." Beecher's voice was strained; it was obvious he was fighting the urge to loose the angry sob lying coiled up in his gut. "He said no." A weak sniffle and he turned and caught Said's eyes, moisture glistening on the tender skin just beneath his eyes, overshadowing the dark, telltale smudges left behind by going for days without sleep. "Why did he do that? Why did he do that?" The words came out along with a stifled, hitching sob and Said slid a comforting arm around his shoulders. 

A moment's hesitation and Tobias buried his face in Said's shoulder, letting both of his arms slip tightly around the other man's trim waist. Said pinched his eyes shut against the pain he could hear as well as feel in Tobias' sobs and held him, saying nothing as he cried himself out. 

Beecher lifted his head at last, wiping at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand -- Said picked up his handkerchief from where Tobias had dropped it and held it up. He took it and scrubbed it against his eyes for a moment before resting his forehead on Said's chest with a soft sigh. 

Said took a deep breath and released it, opened his eyes and gazed down at the bowed dishwater blond head -- Beecher looked up and their eyes snapped and locked together forcefully, like magnets. 

So close... Said could feel the other man's moist breath coming in soft pants against his lips and when he breathed, he breathed in his scent -- clean and crisp, despite the dank, musty odors they were surrounded by -- like a beacon of purity amidst the offal. And when their lips met it was an explosion of sweetness, mixed with salt-tears and seasoned with coppery blood. Just the briefest touch of lips... a soft, experimental swipe of Beecher's tongue against his lips. 

"Toby," he gasped as he leaned his head back, breaking off the kiss. He pressed his head back against the wall, hoping its solidity would anchor him and put an end to the dizziness, slow the pulse pounding relentlessly in his brain. 

"That's the first time you've ever called me that," Beecher smiled as his right hand journeyed up, cupping the back of Said's neck, gently coaxing him down again. "I like it." 

"Tobias, no," he placed a hand on the arm draped around his neck. "Not like this." 

"Why? I _want_ to." 

"No, you only think you do. Whether you know it or not, you're still not completely well, yet." With a downhearted sigh, Tobias drew back his arm, lowered his head. "I won't take advantage of you that way and --" 

"Yeah, I know, I know. Allah." 

"It's got nothing to do with Allah. Even if my religious beliefs didn't frown upon this, I couldn't, _wouldn't_ do that to you. I respect you far too much... as a friend... to take advantage of you that way." He cupped Tobias' face in his hands and tilted his head up. "Do you understand?" 

"Yeah," a weak smile, "I do." 

"Good," Said smiled warmly in reply as his arms closed around the other man, Tobias' head nestled under his chin. 

Kareem Said had much to contemplate as he knelt on his prayer rug that night. He crawled into bed just two hours before morning count. 


End file.
